


Goodbyes Are Never Easy

by GothamRogue81



Series: Scenes from Gotham City [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 13:23:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5745463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothamRogue81/pseuds/GothamRogue81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry. I know, no one likes a sad story, but I started this earlier this week.  This has been a crap week.  With Bowie and Rickman, plus an actual wake for a friend's father, I've been surrounded by this type of sadness all week.  With the fandom world, I feel like people that come on this website aren't the type of people that need this message, but just in case it breaks free to the outside world, be good to eachother.  It's simple.  There is so much good in the world and people focus on the bad.  So much disease and we focus on making money off of it.  Not to sound like a hippie, but it's just pretty sad.  If we spent less time idolizing people who are famous for being disgusting human beings (The Kardashians, Donald Trump) and tried to actually make a difference or at least pay more attention to those who are trying to, then the world would be a better place.   </p><p>This week, as a Batman fan, I realized that while there are a lot of good morals and codes to live by that Batman/Bruce Wayne embodies, the real role model of Batman stories is really Alfred.  I usually like to bring up a lot of info for inspiration purposes when writing.  When I googled Alfred to make sure I had names correct and to maybe include things I didn't remember, I couldn't find anything pretaining to his death, other than actors who have played him.  They've done multiple Robins dying, and even Batman himself, but there's nothing out there about how Bruce and the family would react to the death of the real Patriarch of the family.</p><p>What I did see pop up in google is all the articles written about the things you never knew about Alfred, or Why Alfred is the greatest.  He's this well hidden hero who pops up as support in this awesome lore, but he's the one we take the lessons away from when we read these stories.  The bright side of the dark knight. </p><p>Death is inevitable.  And too many times comics break our hearts by killing off a character, only to bring them back again.  That's not how real life works.  I'm not going to include Alfred in future stories.  In GothamRogue81 canon, he is deceased and for that, again, I apologize.  But hopefully this story will bring a tear to your eye, while warming your heart and making you think about the world in a new light.  </p><p>As always thank you for reading.</p></blockquote>





	Goodbyes Are Never Easy

As the rain poured down from the sky outside St. Swithen’s Cathedral, so too did the tears pour from the mourners inside. Many had come out in support of Gotham’s first son, but those in the first two pews were the ones who belonged. If Bruce had had it his way, this would have been a private gathering at Wayne Manor with just family and friends, but he knew that his old friend would never have forgiven him if he didn’t give him a proper Catholic funeral, if not for himself for his own long deceased mother.

At the head of the church was a casket, draped in an English flag. Bruce couldn’t bring himself to look at it. Beside him, Damian leaned on him, his face buried in his shoulder. On the other side Dick sat gripping Barbara Gordon’s hand tightly in his. Jason and Tim sat with Cassandra and Stephanie beside them, the entire row in tears.

Across the aisle sat Alfred’s daughter Julia, his brother Wilfred and his sister Margaret, along with several elderly men in British Royal Marine uniforms. The left side aisle was obviously better at pushing down emotions and holding back their feelings.

At the podium, Monsignor Ercolani finished his sermon to the parishioners. “Death touches us all. You could say that like our Lord, Death is the only constant. Many talk of Death as a shrouded figure. He is the collector of souls. And where does Death bring those souls? To heaven, to Jesus. So you could say that Death and Jesus both come in and out of our lives throughout our time here on Earth.”

“Alfred Pennyworth was a man who touched many lives. You see before him,” he said motioning towards the Waynes, “the family he cared for. Those he meant the most to in this life. And it is that parting gift that he has left them that will remain for the rest of theirs. In these times of loss, it is important to remember that the memories of Alfred that you all have, need to be cherished and remembered, and that is how we keep him with us in our hearts as we go on without him.”

He stepped to the side and sat. There was a long pause before Barbara gave Dick’s hand a squeeze and urged him to go up. He reluctantly stood up and walked to the podium. He stood silently, breathing deep and looking at the casket. He slowly unfolded a piece of paper, taking a deep breath.

“When I was sixteen years old, I came to live at Wayne Manor. I was suddenly thrown into a totally different world than I was used to. I went from a circus performer, traveling from town to town, to a prep-school student, traveling the world with my adopted father. And along with this new world that I had entered, there came a special man. I soon learned that what Bruce Wayne had done for me, Alfred Pennyworth had done for him.”

A tear fell on the page and he wiped it away with his thumb, smudging the ink slightly. “Alfred wasn’t your average butler, not that I would have known what was,” he laughed through the pain. “Like Bruce, he was tough. He had grace and civility and almost an air of British royalty, but he could change a tire or stich a wound.”

“Over the years, I learned more about what made him the man he was. His time with the Royal Marines. Not the type of time where he sat guarding a building because nothing was happening around him. No, Alfred had seen war. He had been in actual battles. He had fought. He had watched men die, and he had helped others live. This old man who made sure I ate right and took care of myself, would quiz me on history which he had actually been a part of.”

“Alfred Pennyworth wasn’t our butler. For my brothers and sister, he was our surrogate grandfather. He was, as Jason would put it, a badass. He supported us, guided us, and loved us. We love you Alfred. Thank you for all you’ve done for us and we’ll miss you while we try to make you proud.” He folded the speech, tucking it back into his suit pocket and stepping down. As he crossed the church, he kissed his finger tips and grazed them across the casket, closing his eyes before taking his seat next to Babs. 

Selina put her hand on Bruce’s shoulder from the pew behind him. She gave a soft squeeze and he knew it was time. Damian watched his father rise and make his way across the church, leaving him sitting behind. Cassandra reached over and he scooted over to her, curling against her as their father began his speech.

“This is the second time I’ve stood before a funeral mass and said goodbye to my father,” he began. He looked over at Julia. “Julia, you were so lucky to have him as your father, and I count myself lucky that you have always understood that I considered him to by my father too.” She nodded knowingly and smiled at him, wiping a tear away with a tissue.  
“When my parents died, I thought the world had ended, but in fact it had just begun. I went through very dark days in my youth, but Alfred was there. He was the light that guided me through all of that darkness and helped me come out on the other side, a stronger and better man.”

The silence in the church was haunting. The air felt cold and the only sounds that were made were the audible sniffs of those who weren’t able to hold back their tears. Bruce was on the verge himself, so he broke the uncomfortable silence and continued, “He raised me. While my parents had set the ground work for the man I would become, Alfred was the one who put me back together from that the ground up. I am who I am because of this man.”

He looked over at his kids and smiled. “Those kids you see sitting in the front row, that’s my family. Our family. Most of you only knew Alfred as the butler that takes care of Wayne Manor for that rich guy. But he was never just a butler. I am no King or Lord, and our home is no castle. I don’t sit upon a throne above Gotham looking down at subjects,” he said. 

In the congregation, Clark Kent wiped away a tear. He had never seen Bruce like this before. When he had thought that Jason had died, he was angry. He was withdrawn and went into seclusion, but today up on the pulpit, Bruce was showing his vulnerability to the people of Gotham. This above anything showed how much Bruce was effected by the loss of Alfred.

“Alfred wasn’t a butler. He was family. He was a father to me, and he was a grandfather to those kids. My kids,” he said. “He didn’t serve us, he took care of us,” he said, clearing his throat. He was somewhat angry suddenly. He looked down at the next words on the paper, and envisioned the Gotham Gazette twisting them and taking them the wrong way, but that’s just what they do, and he didn’t care. 

The looks on his family’s faces said it all. He was heartbroken. Alfred was the first person to connect on an emotional level with Damian. Now his youngest son was crying against his sister, whom he did nothing but bicker with. Jason was in a suddenly vulnerable, weakened state he had not often seen from the colder of the boys. He was being the big brother to the others that they needed him to be, while at the same time being heartbroken and unable to hide his sadness or use attitude and anger as a defense. 

And of course, Dick’s words had already described how he at a loss he was. If not for Alfred, he may have never taken him in, and lowered his own walls. Without Alfred, this family may not have existed.

“I never thought to myself what life might be like without Alfred. He was this immovable object. Loving yet stern. Warm, yet hardened. Like a celebrity whose movies you watch over and over, you never picture them just one day, not being there anymore,” he said. “I never had a plan for this ‘what if’ scenario. It just never seemed possible,” he said. He made eye contact with Selina, Clark and Diana, before finishing the thought. “I guess I always thought that he would outlive me.” The three shared a silent, tearful chuckle.

“Tomorrow I’ll wake up and he won’t be there,” he said. “I’ll get Damian and Cassandra up and send them off to school, and go to work. When I get home, the house will be empty. I’ll go pick the kids up at school and we’ll be there alone before bed. He’s not going to be there for me to ask advice on a business move, or to help Damian with his history reports. He won’t get to hear Cassandra play piano at Christmas.” He clenched his fists. “He won’t get to see Dick and Barbara get married in the Summer and that’s devastating to me,” he choked up and stepped away from the podium for a moment, turning away from the mourners. 

He turned back and gripped the sides of the podium. “It’s important to live every day like it’s your last,” he said. “Life is precious and we forget it because we get so caught up in the day-to-day stuff. But what’s important is around you. When you cut away the bull, that’s what you’re left with. You kids, your parents, your siblings, your friends,” he folded the paper up. 

“Alfred took care of everyone around him. Whether you were family or a guest in our home. A friend or a stranger. It’s about time we started trying to live more like that. There’s too much pain and sadness in this world to be awful to each other,” he said. “My parents had this ideal image of a Gotham where people helped those in need, and where if people saw sadness or pain, they’d do something about it. I think they entrusted me to Alfred because he was that dream, in human form. He embodied that dream Gotham. I love you Alfred, and I’ll miss you.”

He walked back to the pew and Clark put his hand on his shoulder as Selina wrapped her arm around his neck from behind and kissed his cheek. “You did great up there Bruce,” she whispered. “He’d be so honored.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry. I know, no one likes a sad story, but I started this earlier this week. This has been a crap week. With Bowie and Rickman, plus an actual wake for a friend's father, I've been surrounded by this type of sadness all week. With the fandom world, I feel like people that come on this website aren't the type of people that need this message, but just in case it breaks free to the outside world, be good to eachother. It's simple. There is so much good in the world and people focus on the bad. So much disease and we focus on making money off of it. Not to sound like a hippie, but it's just pretty sad. If we spent less time idolizing people who are famous for being disgusting human beings (The Kardashians, Donald Trump) and tried to actually make a difference or at least pay more attention to those who are trying to, then the world would be a better place. 
> 
> This week, as a Batman fan, I realized that while there are a lot of good morals and codes to live by that Batman/Bruce Wayne embodies, the real role model of Batman stories is really Alfred. I usually like to bring up a lot of info for inspiration purposes when writing. When I googled Alfred to make sure I had names correct and to maybe include things I didn't remember, I couldn't find anything pretaining to his death, other than actors who have played him. They've done multiple Robins dying, and even Batman himself, but there's nothing out there about how Bruce and the family would react to the death of the real Patriarch of the family.
> 
> What I did see pop up in google is all the articles written about the things you never knew about Alfred, or Why Alfred is the greatest. He's this well hidden hero who pops up as support in this awesome lore, but he's the one we take the lessons away from when we read these stories. The bright side of the dark knight. 
> 
> Death is inevitable. And too many times comics break our hearts by killing off a character, only to bring them back again. That's not how real life works. I'm not going to include Alfred in future stories. In GothamRogue81 canon, he is deceased and for that, again, I apologize. But hopefully this story will bring a tear to your eye, while warming your heart and making you think about the world in a new light. 
> 
> As always thank you for reading.


End file.
